Things We Never Thought We'd Say
by Virgoleo23
Summary: I haven't spoken in so long, they don't even remember. They've forgotten that I have a voice. They think that even I have forgotten. They can silence my voice. But they can never make me forget. Even if I have long since forgotten how to use it.


**A/N: Okay, okay, I know. Why haven't I updated LYIWWTA yet? Well I'm working on it, it's hard, and I have a very good reason for updating these past days.**

**I've been in Canada. No, really. With _really_ expensive internet, and no computer. It was gorgeous up there, I met very many lovely people (except for you Mr. I'm-Too-Good-For-English-Speakers-Shopowner-Man, _you_ need to appreciate the effort I put into my flawed French. Hmph.) But really it was amazing, so to all of you awesome Canadian FF readers: Je t'aime tout le monde! (I know I probably screwed that up too). **

**Anyway, this is a futurefic that is NOT me jumping on the iOMG bandwagon, even though I loved that episode. That episode deserves fluff, which I will try to deliver. I needed a break from my in-progress fic, or else my head will explode. BTW, this fic contains some heavier themes that were inspired exclusively by the song Sing by My Chemical Romance. Go watch it or you have not yet lived. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Je ne possède pas iCarly. Or Google Translate.**

**FPOV:  
><strong>

They have all forgotten me...

I used to think it wasn't possible to forget about living, breathing blood and flesh.  
>Especially when it never left in the first place. I used to be naive.<p>

Every time I raised my voice, every time I tried to let them know...every time.  
>They drowned me out. I shouted in their faces at the tops of my lungs.<br>They didn't hear me.

I shouted myself hoarse, but nobody cared.

Nobody cares.  
>And I shouted.<p>

They smiled at me, my desperation was nothing more than an amusement. I wasn't ready to have a voice, no, I certainly wasn't. So I was pushed off to the side.  
>Besides, there were plenty of other people here to speak for me.<p>

I've become some sort of ulterior being. Always there, enough that it would be strange for me not to be present, but never anything more than a figurehead.

Sometimes I wonder if they've gotten better at smothering my objections, or if I've lost the will to rise up and object. If they crush it while you're young enough, they can make you think you've never had an opinion at all. The only lack of strength being

silence.

And it only strengthens with time.  
>It's one of the flaws of growing up.<p>

I haven't spoken in so long, they don't even remember.  
>They've forgotten that I have a voice. They think that even I have forgotten.<p>

They can silence my voice. They did.  
>But they can't make me forget. They can never make me forget.<p>

Even if I have long since forgotten how to use it.

* * *

><p>We are sitting in a long room, eerily sterile.<br>It is all cold and chrome and smells like cleaning products.

The walls are all made of glass plating, and we can see people in gray business suits walking past us. None of them turn to look at us, specimens in the habitual box we are sitting in, but that's not the point. The point is that they _can_, if they want to.

I don't mind. I'm not used to privacy anyway.

My mother sits at the head of the table. I sit to her left.

A solemn-looking man in a generic suit sits across from her, with his daughter at his side. This man and my mother are discussing business matters. Us younger ones are only here as a formality.

The girl is pretty, by any means. She has long brown hair that reaches her waist and a friendly smile that betrays her non-threatening nature. Maybe they've silenced her voice too.

My mother finishes negotiating with the broad man, and turns to look at me.  
>She knows that I know exactly what she's about to say. She knows that I will agree to it. She just needs to hear me to say it, for legal documentation.<p>

"Fredward Karl," she clips, "I assume you know why we are here today?"

Yes, I nod, I do.

She glances down at the important papers in her manila folder.  
>"Mr. Shay and I have negotiated a deal. You are aware of his multi-million dollar prototype research and development enterprise. It would be a powerful alliance to join with our successful software programming corporation. We have decided that it would be wise to form a permanent coalition of our corporate bodies through the espousal of our children.<br>It is the _only_way to form an airtight unification of our legacies." She punctuates the word 'only' sharply, making sure I understand. I do.

Deals are easily broken in this day and age. Contracts and legal forms can be twisted and picked at until every last loophole is exhausted.  
>Words mean as little as the voices that speak them.<br>There is only one option left to ensure an alliance between corporations holds against the attorney. Which is why I am sitting here at this stainless steel table trying not to be intimidated by the room's harsh fluorescent lighting.

My mother can see that I understand, and the corner of her mouth twitches up in satisfaction.  
>She taps her ballpoint pen in the direction of the pretty brunette.<p>

"This is Carlotta Annamaria Shay. She is a very pleasant girl, and has agreed to become espoused to you in order to ally our two companies. She is very intelligent, she scored a 2364 on her SAT's as a high school sophomore and graduated valedictorian from Yale University last summer. She suits you well."

She stared me hard in the eye, daring me to disagree, and asked:  
>"Fredward Karl Benson. Will you marry this girl?"<p>

I...I don't...

"You don't _what?_"

I swallowed.  
>I cannot speak out.<br>Maybe, one day, I would raise my voice again.  
>I would learn how to speak, to not catch the words before they escape, and I would make them hear me.<br>Then they would remember.

Maybe then they'd realize that I remember a thing called love.  
>They'd remember that I felt it once, and love is not a thing that can be spoken through words. Maybe then they'd see that there are some things they can not silence.<br>And love would never, ever arise as a surname shared between two people who 'suit each other well'.

That's a lot riding on a day that I know very well will never come.

Which is why I wilt under my mother's gaze and tell her:

I don't...don't see why not.

My mother smiles.

"Perfect."

I nod and turn to stare at one of the transparent walls beside me. The important people walk by us, unhurried, ignoring my presence completely. None of them seem to care that anyone at all could turn and examine their every step. Like it doesn't matter that I could trace their paths at every turn. They must not have any secrets.  
>I notice passively that all of their business suits are the exact same shade of grey.<p>

I turn back to watch my mother scrawl her signature on some important-looking papers. She hands me the pen to sign my name.

I write down the letters F-r-e-d-w-a-r-d B-e-n-s-o-n and hand the pen back to her. She smiles fondly at me. I just look down at the table.

It's a good thing that I'm not made of glass.

**A/N: Well I hope you enjoyed that! I put a good deal of work into it, so review if you liked it, or don't if you hated it.**

**Why do I always write in Freddie's point of view? I don't know, I guess I have a similar mindset to his character. But the fluff I am planning to write is primarily Sam-centric, although it's a coughcough-oneshot-cough. I know. I'm addicted to them. I don't know how long this fic will be, or when it will be updated, I have some serious exam studying to do, I am waaay to much of a procrastinator on that. **

**"See above message about reviewing"**

**That about wraps it up!**

**~Virgoleo23  
><strong>


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